


when love is a safer place

by silpium



Series: inktober 2019 [13]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Abuse, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:14:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22681549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silpium/pseuds/silpium
Summary: Every day when he walks into the gym, he knows he’s safe. He knows that so deep in his bones that he doesn’t even startle when someone yellsone touch!or slaps him on the back after a nice play, doesn’t flinch when he makes a mistake that costs them a point.They want him to be there. When he has to skip a few practices in a row, the next time he manages to come, everyone beams at him as he comes into the gym with shouts ofwelcome back!andgood to have you again!and chats happily with him as they practice. And Hinata is able to reciprocate: he is able to look the others in the eye and hold a conversation with them about everything and nothing, with good-natured ribbing and then some.Hinata has never been able to do that with anyone before them, except Kageyama. There’s no anger, no questions, and most of all, Hinata has no fear.A family, Hinata thinks, then smiles down at the floor.Yeah, this is what a family is.Or: sometimes, you need others to help you move forward.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Series: inktober 2019 [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1507019
Comments: 6
Kudos: 336





	when love is a safer place

**Author's Note:**

> for inktober day #13, “ash.”
> 
> please be aware of the following triggers:
> 
>   * child abuse (explicit emotional abuse, referenced physical abuse) 
>   * exploration of trauma thereof 
>   * themes of mental illness/trauma
> 

> 
> please take care of yourself and don’t read this if any of these upset you! they are all very heavily explored in this fic :(

Hinata is young when he learns that love is a closed fist and biting words. He doesn’t know any better, so he endures it and loves his mother—in his own way—in return.

He never quite understands why he’s so lonely. His mother loves him, says as much every day and night, clothes and feeds him and gives him a roof over his head—isn’t that enough? Isn’t that more than most children get?

He should be grateful. He _is_ grateful.

/ * \

Hinata grows up with fewer friends than he can count on one hand. As for people he actually feels a connection with—well, “none” is harsh but true. There’s this tall, tall wall between him and everyone else, thick barbed wire rising all the way up its insurmountable height. Hinata can’t even dream of climbing it—he imagines it, imagines the way blood would pour from his palms and the soles of his feet as he climbed, the skewering pain, and is too scared to revisit the thought ever again.

It’s okay, though. For all that he might be missing out on, Hinata is happy to be with just himself and his mother. Most nights are good, after all, with them smiling and laughing together, joking about the stupidest of things. It’s the nights when something ugly rears its head inside his mother that Hinata has to watch out for, when the jovial mood of the night suddenly turns ice-cold because Hinata said something wrong and his mother spits _you’re just like your good-for-nothing father, Shouyou_ , and—

But those nights are rare. Hinata just has to watch out for them and lock himself in his room when he sees them coming. Every family has its ups and downs, after all, and theirs is no different.

/ * \

Everything changes when Hinata discovers volleyball. Hinata’s never had passion for anything the way he does volleyball. He can lose himself in it for hours, and it’s revolutionary: Hinata suddenly has something to look forward to every day, something that’ll invariably make him smile so wide his cheeks hurt.

He can’t explain why the story of the Little Giant speaks to him so. The way he turns the most dismal of situations into hope, refusing to ever give up. The way he defies expectations, shining even though he shouldn’t, making something of himself despite everything going against him.

Why does that make hope blossom in his heart, joy shiver down his spine? Why does it inspire him like that? Everything’s perfect, after all. There’s no reason to be inspired by someone so downtrodden.

Even if it doesn’t make sense, Hinata still falls in love with volleyball, and falls hard, to the point where he dedicates everything to it and then some. It doesn’t matter that he gets even more shunned in middle school for being that weird volleyball kid, because, finally—finally, Hinata is happy.

(But wasn’t he already?)

/ * \

“You’re spending too much time on that volleyball crap,” his mother tells him one night over dinner.

Hinata flinches. Nothing he could—or would—say would appease her.

“You’re spending more time on that than with me, for heaven’s sake. I’m your mother. Shouldn’t I take priority?”

“Yes,” Hinata says, faintly, knowing that he needs to agree. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m glad you understand. You can go to that tournament or whatever it was you were planning on doing next week, but after that, all this after-school practicing? That stops.”

Hinata stares down at his plate, unblinking. Nausea ruminates in his stomach. “Okay.”

/ * \

The Kitagawa Daiichi members are making fun of Hinata’s team when he runs to use the bathroom, and his throat burns with the urge to reply. At the idea of telling them off, though, an icy and sharp fear flickers through his veins, because every time he stands up for himself, it—

He stays silent.

“Hey, second-years. You think you have the right to make fun of the opposition? You aren’t even warming the bench. Don’t ride on the coattails of your school’s reputation.”

The King of the Court—Kageyama Tobio, was it?—takes the words right out of his mouth. The second-years run away, and Hinata is about to enter the bathroom when Kageyama turns to him.

“And you. You don’t even have the guts to stand up for yourself? What are you even doing here, then? Did you just want to make some fun memories of your last year?”

Hinata flinches, both because of the crushing weight of Kageyama’s stare and the harshness of his words. Staying silent is the only good option here. They only get more angry if you say something.

“Are you just gonna stand there? Say something.”

That’s—different. Kageyama expects a reply?

“No,” Hinata says, softly. “I—I came here because I wanted to win.”

Kageyama raises an eyebrow at him. “You’ll get nowhere with that kind of attitude. Winning takes blood and sweat and tears. If you came here to win expecting it to be easy, then you should just go home.”

“No,” Hinata says, louder this time, emboldened by Kageyama’s lack of anger. “I came here to fight. I want to fight, and struggle, and—I want to earn it.”

Kageyama is silent for a moment, judging him, before he nods. “Good. I’ll be looking forward to playing with you, then.” And he turns on his heel and walks away; Hinata watches him and wonders why he can’t stop shaking.

/ * \

They lose. They lose, and terribly at that.

As they’re walking out of the building, the tears burn in Hinata’s eyes until he can’t hold them back anymore. His first and last volleyball tournament—a loss, only thirty-one minutes. And that’s all he’ll ever play.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Kageyama walking with his team back to their bus, and Hinata wants nothing more than to run after him and say something, anything.

But there’s nothing to say. No matter how much Hinata wants to become stronger, to stand on the same level as Kageyama someday, this is it.

/ * \

Hinata still goes to Karasuno. Even if he can’t play volleyball anymore, going to the same school as the Little Giant still has a lure to it, and it would hurt too much not to at this point.

(He doesn’t join a club. It would be a betrayal to the Little Giant.)

Hinata has started to get used to the slow roll of the days without volleyball. It’s a slow pace towards acceptance; his mother always gets her way, after all, and this will be no exception, no matter how important it was to him this time. That’s when it happens: Kageyama corners him as he’s about to get on his bike and head home.

“You,” Kageyama says, aggressively, far too much in Hinata’s personal space. “You—why are you here? Why aren’t you in the volleyball club?”

“ _What_?” Hinata squeaks, fists white around his bike’s handles. “Why are _you_ here? Shouldn’t you be at some big-name school or something?”

“That doesn’t matter! You—your innate ability and reflexes at that tournament last year… You’re wasting so much potential just sitting around and not using them! Why the hell aren’t you on the team?”

Hinata averts his gaze. “I didn’t wanna be.”

“That’s a lie,” Kageyama says immediately. “The way you played—there’s no way you just didn’t want to be in the club. There’s a reason. What is it?”

“Look, can’t you just take no for an answer?” Hinata snaps impulsively, regretting the words the second they come out of his mouth. Anxiety curls through his veins as Kageyama’s eyes turn icy; Hinata grips his bike harder in anticipation.

“…Fine,” Kageyama says, at length, stepping away from Hinata. “But I’m gonna find out.” And he stalks away, adjusting his bag over his shoulder, not once looking back at Hinata. 

Dread seeps through his veins, slow and sweet and sickly.

/ * \

Kageyama hovers around Hinata’s side a lot after that. He’s constantly on Hinata’s case about why he isn’t in the club, constantly heckles Hinata to practice with him during lunch and study hall until, eventually, Hinata gives in, because—how can’t he? The opportunity to play volleyball again, without his mother knowing, is right there, impossibly alluring.

“You’re rusty,” Kageyama notes after just a few receives and spikes. “Why are you rusty? Have you not played at all since the tournament?”

Hinata stays silent.

Kageyama picks up the ball and stalks over to Hinata. “Just what have you been _doing_? You wasted your middle school years, and now you’re gonna waste your high school years, too?”

Hinata flinches. The tone is so, so similar to his mother’s. 

“Say something.”

“It’s not like that,” Hinata says, tentatively, voice shaky.

“Then what is it like? I can’t read minds, Hinata. You have to tell me.”

“It’s—complicated. You wouldn’t understand.” Nobody would. They’d all just blame his mother.

“Try me.”

Hinata’s eyes go wide. Nobody’s ever asked before, cared enough to want to know. And some small, small part of Hinata wants to shed his skin, but vulnerability only ever gets him hurt. 

Hinata shakes his head. Kageyama scowls, but he drops it and goes back to sending balls at Hinata to receive.

Here’s the thing: Hinata’s mother would never have dropped it. She would push until Hinata shattered. Yet Kageyama—belligerent, angry Kageyama, so like his mother in demeanor and exterior—is somehow _different_ , somehow knows where the lines are, and, even when frustrated, doesn’t take it out on Hinata. Sure, he comments on how bad Hinata is at volleyball, how he should be better, but there’s no bite to it.

Hinata doesn’t understand.

/ * \

They start hanging out more after that. It doesn’t have to be volleyball-related; sometimes, they just eat lunch together and talk about absolutely nothing of importance. Kageyama’s softened a little, isn’t so hard on Hinata’s case about why he isn’t playing volleyball, although it’s certainly a common topic.

They’ve become friends. Is that the right word? Hinata isn’t so sure, but maybe they are, because Hinata gets this gooey, soft feeling in him whenever he and Kageyama are together, a sense of cheer and security and rightness. It’s all the stuff that those silly kids’ books and shows say friendship is supposed to be.

It gets easier, over time, to separate Kageyama from his mother. Kageyama may have that thorny exterior, but he’s nothing like Hinata’s mother when that ugly part of her comes out: even when Kageyama calls him a dumbass for receiving wrong or forgetting his lunch, there’s no anger to it. It’s teasing, maybe even affectionate.

And Hinata’s able to reciprocate. Hinata is able to counter, “Yeah, well, not all of us were born a volleyball prodigy!” or “You forgot your lunch just last week, so who’s the dummy here, huh?” and not be scared of what Kageyama will say, because he knows Kageyama will just hide a smile behind his scowl. 

It’s strange to not be walking on eggshells all the time; it’s strange to not flinch whenever faux irritation slips into Kageyama’s tone. But it’s _good_ in a way Hinata can’t express, like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders and taken far, far away.

But it makes it all the harder to go home and retreat back into himself, to watch his mother’s every move and listen for anything lying under her words. Now that he’s tasted what it’s like to be free, it’s all the harder to lock himself up in the cage again.

And he wonders, for the very first time: is this really normal? Is this really what love is?

/ * \

Kageyama convinces him, eventually, to attend morning volleyball practice. His mother has late-morning shifts for work and sleeps in, so she would never notice that Hinata’s gone to school earlier than he should.

They walk in together, Hinata twiddling his thumbs nervously as everyone turns to look at them. There’s clear confusion on a few of their faces before one of them pipes up. “Kageyama, who’s that? He looks familiar… I can’t place from where, though.”

“Hinata Shouyou,” Kageyama tells them. “He’s the one I played against in my middle school tournament last year. From Yukigaoka.”

“Oh! He went here, too?” He shifts his attention to Hinata. “It’s good to meet you! We saw your tournament last year—you sure had potential! Are you looking to join? We’d love to have you.”

“Oh, um,” Hinata fumbles with his words. “I’m not sure yet. I think I’m just trying it out for now, maybe.”

“That’s okay, too! It’s great to have you. I’m the vice-captain, Sugawara, and Sawamura Daichi is the captain—he’s getting all the equipment ready.” Sugawara beams at him, open and inviting, and Hinata sends a small smile back to him. “C’mon, don’t be shy! If you could befriend Kageyama, you’ll fit right in.” Kageyama grimaces, but doesn’t say anything, and Hinata smiles just a little bit wider.

And he does fit right in. He slots right back into playing volleyball as if he’d never stopped—he’s still not great, of course, but it’s like an old friend. It’s the same with the rest of the team, too, from Sugawara to the other first-years: it’s as though he’s been playing with them his whole life. The anxiety gnawing at him, telling him he doesn’t belong and that none of this is real, is palpable in his chest; but more powerful than that is the triumphant satisfaction that sings through his veins, humming along with his pulse and saying _this is what it should all be like_.

Hinata finds himself grinning throughout the entire practice, bright and wide. Kageyama slaps him on the back—Hinata doesn’t flinch—after a particularly good spike and says, “I’ve never seen you smile so much. And here you tried to tell me you didn’t want to play volleyball anymore.”

Hinata turns to him, still beaming. “You were right to doubt me.”

Kageyama smiles back at him.

/ * \

Hinata keeps going to morning practices. He’s not an official member of the team, but Sawamura lets him participate anyway, since having another player makes practice run more smoothly.

As time goes on, he becomes a part of the team in spirit. The other team members start waving to him when they see him around campus and start inviting him to team events, to lunch, to hang out after school. They don’t exclude Hinata when they all go out for meat buns on the rare occasion that Hinata can safely attend an afternoon practice; no, instead, Hinata just laughs right along with them when Kageyama grabs his meat bun too hastily and drops it or when Nishinoya’s the one to buy the food—even for Hinata—and insists on being called _senpai_. 

Rather than being that awkward extra limb, he’s been knitted into tapestry of the team, a permanent part of it. The sense of kinship can be felt in the air. It's new to him, yet it immediately seizes hold of his heart. Hinata can’t understand why it’s so tantalizing, so special, but what he does know is that he never wants to let it go.

He’s talking about it to Sugawara absent-mindedly as he’s changing after practice one morning. Sugawara laughs lightly, smiling fondly at him. “Well, isn’t that because the team is like a family to you? Of course you want to be in a place where you feel wanted and accepted. Everyone does.”

A family. Hinata tests the words out, mouthing them to himself. _A family_?

Every day when he walks into the gym, he knows he’s safe. He knows that so deep in his bones that he doesn’t even startle when someone yells _one touch!_ or slaps him on the back after a nice play, doesn’t flinch when he makes a mistake that costs them a point. 

They want him to be there. When he has to skip a few practices in a row, the next time he manages to come, everyone beams at him as he comes into the gym with shouts of _welcome back!_ and _good to have you again!_ and chats happily with him as they practice. And Hinata is able to reciprocate: he is able to look the others in the eye and hold a conversation with them about everything and nothing, with good-natured ribbing and then some. 

Hinata has never been able to do that with anyone before them, except Kageyama. There’s no anger, no questions, and most of all, Hinata has no fear.

 _A family_ , Hinata thinks, then smiles down at the floor. _Yeah, this is what a family is_.

/ * \

Hinata gets home that night and immediately knows that something is very wrong. His mother doesn’t say a word to him as the sound of the door closing reverberates throughout the house, as the floor creaks with his steps through the entryway.

He knows what this means. He’s about to run up to his room—forget having dinner—when his mother’s voice stops him. “Shouyou.”

Hinata freezes.

“What is it?” His voice does not shake, and he’s proud of it.

“Come here.”

“I have a lot of homework to do,” he hedges. If he gets stuck down here, that’ll be the end of it. Any way he can get out—“Can we talk later?”

His mother exhales sharply. The frustration is evident. He shouldn’t have tried it. “No,” she says. “I think what I have to say is more important than that.”

Hinata drops his bag next to the stairs and makes his way into the living room where his mother is sitting. She’s on the couch; the scent of alcohol is strong in the air.

“So,” she starts, staring him in the eye. “I heard you’ve been off participating in the volleyball club. Did you think you could hide it from me? Did you think I wouldn’t notice? I made myself very clear when I told you you weren’t allowed to do that.”

Hinata grips the hem of his shirt with a trembling hand. His nails bite into his skin.

“Let me reiterate. All of that is a waste of time. You should be heading to school and coming right back home to study and spend time with me, your family. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

She lets out a breath. “Good. I’m glad we got that settled. Now, help me make dinner, why don’t you?”

Hinata’s hands do not stop shaking for the rest of the night.

/ * \

Hinata starts avoiding Kageyama at school. He does not talk to Kageyama for days, ignoring his texts and darting down the other hall at the sight of him.

Then Kageyama wisens up: he waits for him after school at the bike rack Hinata always leaves his bike at. Hinata sees him from afar as he’s walking over to his bike, but Hinata’s mother will kill him if he’s late coming home again, so he can’t wait it out until Kageyama gives up and leaves. He has no choice but to steel himself and deal with Kageyama head-on.

Not making eye contact, he walks up to his bike, doing his best to ignore Kageyama’s probing, angry questions. He unlocks his bike, about to get on it, when Kageyama grabs the handle and leans down, causing Hinata to startle and look up at him.

“I’m serious, Hinata. You can’t just disappear like that.” Now that Hinata is listening more closely, he hears the anger, but more than that, he hears the betrayal underlying his tone. It stings worse than the anger does.

“It’s nothing,” Hinata insists. “I just decided I didn’t want to join after all.” Kageyama won’t buy it, but he has no better excuse.

“Bullshit. You were never happier than when you played, Hinata. There’s got to be something else going on. And I’m not letting you leave until you tell me. Even if it’s something I did—just _tell_ me.”

Hinata stares up at him silently. He wants to tell him. Because his mother is not what a family is. She is not love. There is a pointed difference between her and when he walks into the gym, when he talks to Kageyama, when he plays with the rest of the team. 

But he’s _scared_. His mother is all he knows, all he has. And if she finds out that Hinata hasn’t just been disobeying her, but that he’s been talking behind her back—Hinata’s knuckles turn white with the grip he has on his bike’s handles. There’s no telling what would happen when she’s already raised her hand against him for lesser things.

He opens his mouth, but his voice won’t come out. Shakily, he exhales, trying to keep his breathing even.

Kageyama’s gaze softens. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Hinata tells him, truthfully.

“I—didn’t mean to upset you,” Kageyama says awkwardly, stunted, letting go of Hinata’s bike and straightening up. He averts his eyes. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to just—”

“No!” Hinata says it too quickly. “No, I—don’t go.”

“You shouldn’t go home alone like this,” Kageyama says at length. “I’ll walk with you.”

Unbidden, without Hinata even realizing he’s said it: “I don’t want to go home.” It’s so soft he almost doesn’t hear it himself.

Kageyama’s gaze slides back over to Hinata. “Okay.” 

And that’s it. Kageyama lets Hinata go home with him, no questions asked.

/ * \

There are messages from Hinata’s mother on his phone when he wakes up the next day. He is too scared to read them, yet he also doesn’t feel the need to: disobeying his mother so pointedly comes with a freedom he’s never held before.

He goes to morning volleyball practice. He goes to afternoon volleyball practice. He goes home with Kageyama. Repeat. 

It becomes easier and easier with time—the longer he spends away from his mother, the more he realizes how badly he wanted to leave.

Kageyama’s parents are warm, caring, accommodating, always asking Hinata about his day, making his favorite food, and making sure he isn’t too shy to make himself at home. They seem to understand the gravity of the situation even though Hinata hasn’t explained it, taking Hinata right under their wing. They treat him as though he’s always been a part of their family.

 _A part of their family_ , Hinata thinks as he stares at the wall of their guest room after a few nights. _This is what I never had. This is what I should’ve had_.

Eventually, Hinata works up the courage. He and Kageyama are playing volleyball—because of course they are—in Kageyama’s backyard that night when Hinata catches the ball he was supposed to receive. He looks down at it for a moment in silence.

“What are you doing, dumbass? Did you forget how to receive?”

“No,” Hinata says. He spins the ball in his hands and watches it go around and around, infinite. “My mother told me in middle school that I wasn’t allowed to play volleyball anymore. That the tournament you and your team beat me in would be the last time I played. And, y’know, I just accepted it. Because my mother… will always get her way. But then you pushed me into playing with the team, and I…”

Hinata stares at the ball spinning in his hands and stops it mid-spin. “I realized that there was more to a family than my mother. I realized that there’s more to it than how she treats me. I realized that isn’t love.”

Kageyama is quiet. So is Hinata. The only sound is the wind whistling through the air and the tenuous beat of Hinata’s heart.

Louder than last time: “I don’t want to go home.” Then, again, like he’s carving the words into his heart and into the very fabric of the air: “I don’t want to go home.”

“You don’t have to,” Kageyama murmurs. 

“I don’t have to,” Hinata echoes. A realization: “I don’t have to go home.”

“You don’t,” Kageyama confirms. “My parents—they would never make you go home. And if you need someplace else to go, everyone on the team would let you stay with them, too. You don’t ever have to go home if you don’t want to.”

So Hinata doesn’t.

/ * \

It’s more complicated than that, of course. His mother texts and calls him endlessly until he just blocks her number because he’s too tempted to look, too scared of what she might be saying. Then there’s how his mother searches for him, how she calls the school and the police trying to find him until someone gives up that he’s staying with Kageyama, but the thing is—when the police come to Kageyama’s house, they don’t force him to go back.

“You’re still a minor,” they tell him, “but you’re old enough to know where and what is safest for you.”

Legs numb with relief, hands shaking, Hinata realizes then that she doesn’t get to take him back. It’s not just a pipe dream—he really, truly doesn’t have to go back home.

“You can stay with us for as long as you want, dear,” Kageyama’s mother tells him later. “Anyone who means as much as you do to Tobio has a special place in our hearts.”

Hinata has to hold back tears.

_This is what I never had. This is what I should’ve had._

/ * \

Hinata is always going to carry the bruises and scars from his mother around on his skin. That’s just a fact. No matter how much time heals wounds, in the deepest parts of him, there will be something from her, be it a quirk in his personality or a startle when he shouldn’t be scared.

Hinata moves forward nonetheless.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading. this is a very personal fic for me—i based it very heavily on my own experiences with my mother after relapsing regarding my trauma with her. i deadass actually started crying when i was rereading and formatting this fic LMAO (given that, please don’t leave any concrit on this fic.)
> 
> hinata has always helped me a lot in exploring the things i struggle with, and this is no exception—i hope this has helped someone else, too. please feel free to leave a comment; that’s what keeps me writing. i hope you have a great day!
> 
> big thanks to [mar](https://twitter.com/puddlehope) for betaing this fic! i appreciate how much time and effort you put into it so much. thank you!
> 
> if you’d like to talk about this fic, or kagehina in general, you can find me [on twitter @hhatsunetsu](https://twitter.com/hhatsunetsu)! please don’t hesitate to shoot me a message. again, thanks so much for reading. i hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> p.s. i live in america and was emancipated, which was essential to my recovery and thus essential to how i wrote this fic. i attempted to research how this works in japan and couldn’t find anything that really illustrated how the process works, so i apologize for any inaccuracies. what the police say to hinata is exactly what they said to me, and i would imagine that it couldn’t be horribly different in japan, but, again, i don’t know. i’m sorry if i wrote in error and please let me know if i have.


End file.
